Wednesday Bars
by DrummerDancer
Summary: What difference did the day make?


Title: Wednesday Bars  
Author: drummerdancer  
Verse: None  
Characters/Pairings: Edward, Alphonse, Mustang's staff, mentions of Roy/Riza  
Word Count: 998  
Prompt 237: Heart of a Saturday Night  
Rating: T  
Summary: What difference did the day make?

* * *

Saturday had never meant much to Edward. It was just another name for another day of the week, a measurement for keeping things in order in his journal. It never mattered what name was in the top right-hand corner; looking for the Philosopher's Stone was just as important on a Saturday as it was on a Monday. Everyday that passed was another that Al had to spend trapped in a hollow cage without food, a guilt that never lessened, never waned. The different names for the days didn't have any meaning to his little brother, but rather, his concept of time was just one long filmstrip of sun and moonlight, never broken like a human's should be by sleep.

So everyday, regardless of whether it was a Sunday or a Thursday, the two of them would wake (or Al would simply stand up from his guard dog position beside Ed's bed) and continue researching, continue learning, continue searching for the thing they most desired. No pre-ordained distinction was needed between the sunrises; they only mattered in Ed's travel log.

Which is why, on that Wednesday afternoon, Ed and Al appeared so very confused by Havoc's invitation.

"What do you mean, 'it's a Saturday night kind of thing?'" asked Ed as he crossed his flesh arms and lazily leaned up against the outer office desks. Al joined him in the posture, though his politeness kept him from sitting so lazily on Havoc's desk like Ed was. Not to mention, he rather enjoyed standing now that he had feet to wiggle and twitch.

"Why can't we just go today?" Al added as he looked at the rest of Mustang's partial staff for understanding.

Breda, Falman, Fuery, and Havoc began simultaneously shaking their heads in disagreement.

"You can't go to a bar on a Wednesday!" protested Breda. "That's just…wrong!"

"Showing up to work the next day hungover is against military policy," reasoned Falman.

"Plus, more people are there on Saturdays anyway," supplied Fuery.

This only further confused the duo known as the Elric brothers. "But if it's more crowded on Saturdays, why not go on Fridays?"

Havoc shook his head. "Nah, that day is for the teenagers."

"We're teenagers, Havoc," Ed deadpanned.

"But the rest of us aren't. Plus, who would you rather go with?"

Ed and Al looked at each other. It was undeniably true that Mustang's staff would be much better company than bratty teenagers. Sure, physically, they were only 19 and 18 themselves, but mentally, the brothers were right on cue with the adults of the military. Still, Ed had to ask one more thing.

"Is the Colonel going?"

Breda glanced at the closed inner officer door. Hawkeye had gone in a half hour ago and not returned. Which meant…

"No; I think he's going to be busy," leered Breda with a wink. Al paled slightly, but Ed only grinned and pushed off the wooden furniture. "Alright; we're in."

* * *

Al was almost ready to go. He was wearing a pale blue button up with dark denim jeans and a jacket. Running his hands through his hair one last time, marveling in the beauty and simplicity of feeling his scalp, Al stepped out of the bathroom and into a battlefield. Or rather, the remainder of one. Clothes of all shapes and sizes were strewn like fallen soldiers across the floor, each with their own story to tell. Glancing around for the source of the disaster, Al spotted his brother, donned in a white button up (the same design as Al's, he noted), blue denims, and his trademark braid. He smiled at Al.

"Ready?" asked Al.

Ed nodded, not even bothering to cast a look at his mess. "Yep. Let's go."

* * *

The bar was ablaze with activity. People were roaming around the tables, laughing to one another as they conversed with friends and new acquaintances. The floor was slightly slippery from all the spilled beer, but it made for cheap entertainment and a good laugh when someone face-planted. On the flip side, though, it was those who had had too much alcohol to begin with that fell. Most of who actually remained on the floor due to heavy intoxication.

As Edward lifted his leg and stepped over yet another wasted body, he felt Al tug on his arm.

"Look, over there!"

Ed redirected his gaze and spotted their friends. Fuery and Falman each gave a polite wave while Breda and Havoc whistled like idiots.

"Whoa, whoa, look at them Elric boys!" hollered Breda into Havoc's ear. He immediately left his stool and grabbed the boys by the shoulders. "My, are we gonna have fun tonight!"

Al angled his head away to try to preserve one of his eardrums; Ed looked slightly embarrassed. Havoc immediately noticed and jumped up too. "Let's get some alcohol in these two!"

Without waiting for conformation from either of the blonds, Breda swiveled around and pushed the boys to the bar table while Havoc shot down a bartender. They each took one of the vacant seats left by Havoc and Breda, all the while with the curiosity only the Elrics could possess.

"We've never had alcohol before, huh brother?" Al asked casually as glasses were pushed their way. Ed gave a slight nod before picking up his glass and raising it to eye level for examination.

"Yeah; I wonder what's in this?"

"All you need to know," interjected Havoc, "is that from now on, you two will see the heart of Saturday nights in a whole different light. Drink up."

Needing no further encouragement, Ed and Al threw back their drinks together, savoring the sensation of passing another level into their future. And, sure enough, the days following that night actually seemed a little different. Wednesdays were just a little worse than Tuesdays; Thursdays, a little better than Sundays. Mondays were continually awful. But Saturdays, no Saturdays were just fine.

And they were much better than the bars on Wednesdays, that's for damn sure.


End file.
